Chase Me If You Can(10)
My heart lies with sweeping wide angles. I’ve grown up surrounded by towering Colorado mountains and golden oceans of wheat bending and swaying in the wind. I imagine it’s a bit like the coastal dwellers with their love for the ocean because of its vastness. While I don’t really need a reminder of my own insignificance, standing in front of a storm cloud punching sixty thousand feet into the atmosphere definitely makes me feel small. Like for once, I’m not taking up too much space.
Ahead of me, Wes flips on his turn signal. I glance down at the iPad mounted in between my seats to double check the map. It’s the same left I was planning to take. Ugh.
The car behind me follows us, but everyone else keeps heading east. I’m a little surprised Wes isn’t trying to get closer to the storm, but he must have some other master plan. Obnoxious as he can be, he’s got a sixth sense for getting himself to the right spot to get his shots.
The abandoned house I had in mind sits half collapsed a couple miles down the road. Radar confirms what I can already see through my windshield—the storm is starting to spin like a top.
Wes pulls off onto the shoulder, kicking up dust as I park behind him. There’s no point in pretending we’re not both thinking the same thing, as are the chasers behind us. When they hop out, I’m thrilled to see two women, though I don’t recognize them from prior seasons.
After giving us a brief wave, they set up a respectful distance down the road, claiming a spot on the right side of the house. I’m debating introducing myself, but then I spy bright pink flowers crawling up the house’s rotting siding. Delicate, small blooms cling to the ruins of what was once a vibrant family home centered against the backdrop of the deep purple-gray sky. The pinks will pop against the darkness of the storm, but more than that, it’s exactly what I’m looking for. Growth versus decay. Beauty versus destruction.
Wes gives me a wide, goading smile. “If you’re looking for tips for the contest, you can just ask. No need to follow me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I point at the side of the house, already lifting my camera to adjust my settings. I take a test shot, glance at the preview, and adjust the exposure before trying again. “I’m following the storm. And those flowers.”
We fall into silence as we line up our shots. The storm is gorgeous, a classic wedding cake structure that has me smirking to myself. It makes for stunning photos from a distance, the distinct layers of cloud banding giving it its name. They’re also known for dumping torrents of rain, making it dangerous to get too close.
“Just can’t escape those wedding cakes, can you?” Wes says as though he’s in my head. He’s taken off his sunglasses to shoot the storm, leaving them dangling from the neck of his shirt.
“This is the best kind of wedding cake.” My mood is too good to let him get to me. “Too bad everything will be rain-wrapped if it kicks out a tornado.”
Roads will flood quickly, especially out here where drainage isn’t great. It can be impossible to know what you’re driving into over the next rise. I’m content to stay right where I am with my flowers and abandoned farmhouse as the hot, moisture-rich inflow winds race toward the storm.
We work around each other in comfortable silence. I lower my camera eventually and breathe in the scent of rain, taking a moment to savor it without distraction. Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and let the wind tug on my hair and cool the sweat on the back of my neck. It’s only when I open them again that I spot another storm off to the north, a towering cloud shooting up.
A quick jog back to my car and I’ve got my iPad in hand, rechecking the latest radar scan. The northern storm has less rain, which is more my speed, and the echo top scan shows the clouds are already pushing over thirty-five thousand feet. It’s also not moving that quickly, giving me plenty of time to catch up.
I replace my iPad and shut the car door, wincing as the wind slams it harder than I mean to. The sound attracts Wes’s attention. “Heading out?” he calls, lowering his camera.
Feeling generous with some incredible shots already on my memory card, I point to the storm on the horizon. “That one’s less soggy.”
He nods, then glances back at the storm behind the farmhouse. “Mind texting me a shot of what it looks like when you get up there?”
“Sure, I’ll put it in the group chat.” When he drops the Wild Wes persona, Wes is a lot easier to be around. At some point, he’ll return the favor. “Happy hunting.”
I’m ten minutes into my drive when Tracy calls. “Where you at?”
“Heading for the northern storm. You?”
“Already there. Get your ass up here, Sloane. I think we’re getting a tornado out of this one.”
I grin wildly to myself as I peer through the windshield at the storm. “Got it. See you soon.”
I fire off a quick voice note to Wes, check Tracy and Matt’s location, and then lower my foot on the gas. I might break a few speed limits, but luckily the route I choose is fairly empty, at least at first. Once I get closer, I’m forced to slow down as chaser rush hour takes over the country highway.
About fifty yards down a dirt road, I find Tracy and Matt with their tripods already set up. “You made it!” Tracy yells over the wind as I quickly grab my gear before jogging across the road. There’s a steep ditch for runoff, which requires a careful leap across before scrambling up the sandy soil to the fence line.